


Frozen Chocolate Bananas and Existential Crises

by Aj (aj2245)



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Male Friendship, Partnership, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aj2245/pseuds/Aj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The week after the fourth of July, Will's scheduled to work Taste of Chicago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frozen Chocolate Bananas and Existential Crises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missymeggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missymeggins/gifts).



> Timeline is a little fuzzy given the events of the show, but let's pretend that Stuff Didn't Go Down immediately after the July 4th episode. Forgive the regional feelings and jargon! But I loved the opportunity to write this. Thank you and I hope you do like it!

The week after the fourth of July, Will's scheduled to work Taste of Chicago.  
  
This isn't much of a shock.  Everyone's scheduled to work Taste unless they've got seniority or know someone.  Weirdly, he finds it reassuring rather than frustrating.  
  
Normally, the whole thing is a massive headache wrapped up in heat-stroke.  It'd gotten a little better when the Mayor had separated it out from the 4th holiday a few years ago, but he wouldn't be a Chicagoan if that hadn't hit a bit of his hometown pride.  It wasn't nearly as bad as trying to remember that the Sears Tower was now called Willis by various tourists, or that Sox Park was named after a cell company that _moved out_ and left their commercialism behind.  
  
Most people who live in the city hate the Taste anyway, so the time shift has been little more than something to gripe about for a year or two before giving a deep sigh about not having to explain why Chicago had fireworks on the 3rd.  
  
Still, there's something to be said of tradition and he misses the silly little frustrations of Old Taste in the way that he assumes a farmer misses milking once they install a machine.  The frustrations are dumb and annoying but he had known what to expect.  He's still getting used to New Taste.  
  
If that isn't a metaphor for his fucking life, he doesn't know what is.  
  
From his spot on the Southwest corner of Jackson and Columbus, Will takes a long sip from his water bottle, listening to Diego idly bitch about the shitty taquerías and food trucks that have space this year, and scanning the crowd.  It’s only eleven and he’s sweating like a pig through the summer weights.  He and his partner had another four hours before they're cycled out, which means at least two applications of sunblock for him before he could go home and do some more research. Which is better than tomorrow when they’re scheduled for bag check at the north gate.  
  
A flash of red has him tracking a girl in a hoodie – it is JULY, why is ANYONE wearing a hoodie? - as she weaves through the milling crowd.  He only looks away when she tackle-hugs a waiting friend. He tunes in to his partner more out of a thing to do than any real interest. They’ve been partners for long enough that Will could probably mouth along with whatever Diego is ranting about. Besides, it’s too early for any real work. Mostly, they’re just standing around as eye-candy.  
  
"-to find a decent fucking taco stand.  I live around the corner from three who are better than this shit."  Diego snags the bottle of water Will offers over and drinks the rest.  Because he's a dick.  "For Christ’s sake, they're charging $4 for a steak taco."  
  
"Like you wouldn't if you could get away with it."  
  
"True.  You white people are impressed by anything that doesn't come out of a Taco Bell."  
  
Will punches him in the arm then, hard.  It’s their regular response to assholery; long-established and they mostly pull their punches. Mostly. He ignores the confused looks a couple of middle-aged white women send their way. It’s rare to see a fanny pack these days, but the lady with the hat has a green one. It’s charmingly ugly.  "Dude, you lived off of Taco Bell in the academy.  Don't you blame that shit on us entirely."  
  
To be fair, it had been the only restaurant nearby that could fill up a cadet on less than $8 when Will had gone through, but conceding an argument to Diego in any way was tantamount to surrendering The War.  He'd rather lick the back seat of their squad car the Saturday night during Lolla.  
  
Plus, after the last few weeks, he’s trying to _downplay_ the weirdness.  Speaking random Korean or spacing out during some pretty intense shit was one thing, but placid agreement and a lack of shit-talking?  He'd be cased in at UIC in under twenty minutes.  
  
"Fuck you, everyone does bone-headed shit in their twenties.  Remember, I've seen photos of some of your exes.  A few nights of diarrhea and having to admit to my abuela that I know what a crunch wrap-supreme is is nothing on who was it?  Peggy Kowalski?"  
  
Will glares and points.  "Okay, we're not shit-talking photos of a twenty year-old girl who had the bad luck to be born in the 90's.  Call me a dick or mock my people's terrible choices in food and lack of spices, but you're not ripping on a girl who can't defend herself, and who shouldn't have to in the first place."  
  
The hands up, resignation gesture Diego gives him allows Will's annoyance to drop back into friend levels again.  Morales is a lot better than he was when he and Will originally paired up – mostly because Will has no problems using his pissy-face and is more than happy to rat Diego out to his sister and mother on a regular basis. He hasn’t met Abuela Morales yet, but that’s more because she hates white people and refuses to leave Little Village. Considering what Diego’s mentioned of her migration from Michoacán, Will doesn’t really blame her. Still, he’d totally sell Diego out to her too, if she was willing. "Sorry, sorry, you're right.  I got carried away.  No dumping on girls who were stupid enough to give your ugly face a chance."  
  
It’s as much of an apology as Will could hope for.  It’s honest enough. Besides - Will checks his watch - they have another three and a half hours before they can be done with each other for the shift.  Hell, he's not even due for his first sunscreen reapply. To be completely fair, the comment isn’t even that bad. But, sleep deprivation and life-altering weird shit have done a number on his general attitude.  
  
One thing to say about discovering you are emotionally and spiritually linked with other people, it doesn't do much for your temper.  
  
"C'mon."  He says and points south down Columbus.  For as much as Taste duty is annoying and easy early in the day, they’re both on the clock and perimeter rounds are a requirement. Awkward moments are easier to put behind you when you’re walking. Also, Miller’s is on the south end of the booths this year, and even if he’s had better BBQ other places, using his lunch tickets there is a bit of a tradition. "We need to start walking anyway.  Jimenez and Taylor are down by Buckingham and you know they whine if we don't let them switch out."  
  
Diego nods and they start moving.  It's slow going as the crowds are picking up.  Tourists are trickling in from Michigan Avenue where the hotels are, and starting to get hungry before heading down towards Museum Campus, though the lines in through security aren’t horrific yet.  They get comfortably stuck behind a Latino family, whose kids are loudly doing ticket math and trying to figure out the best places to spend their tickets and whether or not the taste portions are worth it or if they should go in for a full meal.  
  
Will catches himself smiling along, remembering the various neighborhood festivals and parties he'd dragged his father to.  The summer hadn't been a summer if Will hadn't pulled his dad through every tent at the Polish fest; bugging him for change so he could snag a sausage or play a game.  It takes a moment for him to realize that the kids are speaking in rapid Spanish, and he's following along fine.  
  
Which.  Yeah, okay, his Spanish was moderate to okay prior to the recent and rather dramatic tone shifts dropping on his life.  And Riley and Sun and Caephus and Lito and Nomi are amazing and have brought so much that he just feels he was missing; it's still a lot.  Especially in moments like this.  When he finds himself doing or knowing something that he, Will, never learned or knew.  It's amazing, but it's hard. And honestly, he’s not processing as well as he’d hoped.  
  
It's hard to know where he begins and they – ALL of they – end.  Or if they even do.  
  
"You okay, man?"  
  
Will blinks, realizing they're nearly at Buckingham Fountain.  The ten minute slow-crawl of a walk gone quicker than it should have. Judging by Diego doing the serious-face and soft tone that’s becoming annoyingly regular these days, his partner’s been trying to get his attention.

God, he misses individual spatial awareness.

"Maybe."  
  
Diego raises an arm to his shoulder and carefully sheep-dogs him over to a stand of trees.  He shakes his head at Will's confused face, and faces him, hands on hips. Because, apparently, it’s time for that serious emotional discussion they’ve been putting off.  
  
"Seriously, dude.  What's going on right now?"  
  
And isn't that the question of the moment?  
  
Will sighs and stares out at the lake, trying to think of something to say. There are a few boats on the water, but a surprising number still docked in the harbor.  Not finding much inspiration, he turns back. Stares his partner, down.  What can he even say?  That he's having a massive identity crisis?  
  
Wait, no, that's exactly what he can say.  
  
"So."  Will scuffs a boot and looks around, making sure that no one's really paying much attention to the two cops in uniform definitely not making perimeter rounds.  "Have you ever taken a really hard look at your life and realized that everything you believed about yourself, everything you thought was true, was actually not true at all?  That you're not sure your background or beliefs are right?  Or that they ever were in the first place?  That there's this whole other part to yourself that just comes out of nowhere, and then you're stuck dealing with it.  How DO you deal with it?  How do you process new information about yourself that you never knew when you thought you were one thing, and then you find out you're not JUST that?"  
  
The look Diego gives him is contemplative in a way that he’s never really associated with his friend.  It’s probably not fair how he sometimes underestimates him. Morales might be loud and really invested in heterosexuality, but he’s not stupid, nor is he apathetic. Will starts to shift as Diego stares him down. He drags a foot through the scrub masquerading as grass trying not to fidget.

"On a scale from you're telling me you're gay to finding out your ancestors were German and not Polish, what the fuck are you even talking about?"  
  
It startles a hard laugh out of Will, breaking the moment a little.  "I love that me being gay is on the low end of that scale."  
  
Diego rolls his eyes, but the expression is still serious. "I've MET your dad, and the being German thing is way bigger of a deal.  But dude.  What the fuck."  
  
"I like women too much to commit to complete homosexuality and I'm pretty sure I'm not German."  Will pauses and ponders.  He's thankful for the light breeze off the lake that's making Diego's unexpected conversation location a lot less terrible than it could be.  The trees are shady and even the crowd noise feels more muted than it should be given that there are basically thousands of people less than ten feet away from them.  "Yeah, the Trib obit for dad would be the first confirmation of that possibility.  But.  I don't know.  I found some family stuff out and I just really don't quite know how to absorb it?  It's a lot."  
  
Diego nods, shrugging.  "Yeah, family stuff can get weird.  But the rest of that?  Like, you're you.  Even if you find out a whole bunch of extra stuff, that doesn't mean you stop being you.  You're just you with new info."  
  
Will gives him a hard look before pulling off his regulation sunglasses and staring at him some more.  Because what the hell? "Did you just give good philosophical advice?  Because I think you just did and I'm not sure how to process that.  Like, that's scarier than the shit I found out."  
  
"Fuck you, dude."  Diego glares before switching back to the sincere look.  "For real though.  Whatever weirdness the Gorski clan managed to pull on you, especially if it's causing a lot of your extra weirdness, you're still my partner.  You're still the guy who buys mediocre beer for picnics and wrestles with my nieces and nephews and sucks at baking to the point that the church ladies banned you from ever volunteering again.  More just means more."  He shrugs before giving a smirk that indicates Philosophical!Diego has left the park, and dick-bag!Diego is back.  "And, I mean, if you want I can probably dig out some kind of biblical shit parable about expanding your love, but that might appeal to your newly discovered bisexuality and you might be too overcome with lust for me and my awesome brain and like, make out with me."  
  
Will just laughs and smacks his shoulder.  He feels oddly better, even if nothing’s been resolved. Plus, whatever the food trucks are selling smells good from this distance. And there are absolutely worse things in the world than being outside on a nice day, being paid to walk around a not-horrible tourist-trap. Hell, there’s always the frozen bananas to look forward to. Maybe Capheus will show up. He’s 99% sure Capheus would adore the frozen bananas. "I'll try and contain myself.  But you know your mom would be thrilled if you brought me home.  I've met Alicia’s husband."  
  
The grimace Diego gives him is worth all the shit that particular running joke is going to create.  As one, they move out of the shaded area and towards the loud rushing sound that can be heard long before Buckingham Fountain can be seen. "Dammit, stop bringing my mom into things!"  
  
"You're just mad she likes me better than you in the first place."  
  
"Yeah, but only because you take her north of Armitage."  
  
"I still don't get that."  
  
"Your weird-ass people colonized the Northside.  Ain't nothin' up there I need other than paҫzki."  
  
"Yeah, except all the best Indian food in the city-"  
  
"Chicago Curry House-"  
  
"It's NEPALESE."  
  
"Why do we always end up arguing about this?"  
  
Will grins and waves at a baby.  She has two poof balls of hair that shake as she giggles and ducks her face into her mother's shoulder.  And yeah, he still had a lot to figure out.  Probably just as much as before, but Diego is right.  Becoming more was part of growing up.  Growing old.  More was okay, even if it meant mental and spiritual bonds with people across the world who he might never physically meet.  But maybe he would.  And that would be pretty amazing too.  "Because your mom likes me better. We covered this."  
  
Diego kicks him, but turns it into a nominally smooth smirk and wink for a trio of women who hoot, whistle, and make flirty faces.  "Maybe so, but we both know who's better with women under fifty in this partnership."  
  
"Whatever."  He rolls his eyes.  "It's been ten minutes which means that you should probably start whining about the beer again."  
  
"Dick."  
  
"And for the last time, just because your cousin works as a brewer for Goose Island, you are NOT an expert on beer."  
  
"Fuck you, Gorski, I am the best!"  
  
-fin-

 


End file.
